


Shades

by guera



Series: Conversations [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Everyone Has Issues, Gen, Not A Fix-It, Not all Characters Listed, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Steve has more issues, Tags May Change, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, marvel has too many
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-08 04:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7743466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guera/pseuds/guera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is not divided into good and evil, right and wrong or black and white, It is not even shades of grey but also shades of blue, red and yellow as well. </p>
<p>The line between a superhero and a supervillian is a hazy, jagged thing, that moves every time you take a step.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hero

_**He got everything he ever wanted, the price merely the majority of his sanity. He'd like a refund on the grounds of false advertisement.** _

 

**Chapter One – Hero**

 

He had been listening to the two fools in front of him arguing for the better part of an hour before he decides that being king must have some perks and interrupts them.

“Did you eat the boar?” 

The court goes quiet and the thin one on the left draws up defensive, “I had to kill it, Your Majesty, it would have killed me.”

“It would never,” insists the one on the right, who looked a little boar like himself.

“Quiet.” It is nice how quickly the court responds to the command. “I asked if you ate the boar.”

“It seemed a shame to waste the meat.” 

The boar man's eyes widen and he takes a step but then seems to reconsider when every guard around the room lays a hand on their weapon.

He is so tired of the lot of them. He's tempted to stand up and let them all in on the little secret that in less than a year's time it will not matter that this boar is dead, because they will most likely all be dead. 

Unless he can come up with a viable plan.

Which is seeming less and less likely. 

Death wouldn't even be a relief because then he'd have to deal with _her_.

“Pay the man for the boar you ate,” he narrows his eyes at the smug look that crosses boar man's face, “And you will pay to rebuild the fence your boar tore down and any property damaged.” He stands stiffly from the throne and listens as the herald dismisses court.

He escapes court and all that go with it and quickly slips down a side passage. He lets the glamor go as soon as he slips through a secret doorway.

“How was court?” 

He rolls his head from side to side, trying to get the kinks out before focusing on the woman seated on a settee across the room. “Tedious.” The woman doesn't even look up from the fire pit she is staring into and the disrespect makes him want to curl his fingers around her throat. 

“Hm.” She reaches a hand out and pets the fire like one would a cat. “If we can not find a solution you will not have to endure it much longer.”

He scoffs. “If we do not find a solution we will both be dead.”

She looks up at him then, eyes so black the pupil is indistinguishable, and her lips curve into a mocking smile. “I do not believe Death holds court, so my statement still stands.”

He feels the rage again, black and cold and focused, before it ebbs back and he can roll his eyes. She courts death and he must remember that. More than he needs her alive, he does not want to give her anything that she desires. 

“I am not quite so ready to fall into Death's loving embrace.”

“I have a feeling she would say the same of you.”

He feels his lips curve up of their own accord. “True enough. Therefore we should do everything in our remarkable power to delay that meeting for as long as possible.”

She tilts her head and looks at him through the flames, her face thoughtful and guarded. “I have a plan.”

“I am not going to like it,” he guesses.

Her head tilts the other way and the firelight dances around her, “I believe you will prefer it over your death.” Her eyes narrow, “There are many moving pieces and in the end it might not be enough to save the universe...but going to your death a hero might appease some of them on the other side,” she shrugs, “Perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” he echos. 

Loki, the Liemith, the Sly One, the Trickster God, Kin-killer and King-slayer, Father to chaos, and would be conqueror of midgard. 

A hero.

Perhaps, indeed.


	2. Wizard

**Chapter 2 - Wizard**  
**_  
People always forget under all the ridiculousness, Scott has a mind that could rival Stark's._ **

 

Wakanda is beautiful. Picturesque even, with it's deep green jungles and thundering waterfalls and architecture that flows seemlessly into nature. For the first week, Scott spends most of his waking hours exploring the wing of the palace they've been given, never staying in one room for long. 

It probably has something to do with being in a ten by ten fish bowl for two months but he's not going to look too deeply into that.

By week two he's explored every bit of tech in every inch of the rooms they're allowed in and he's finding himself thinking more and more of Cassie. Which is dangerous grounds and liable to get him to do something stupid, so he decides he needs a distraction. 

There has been something bothering him ever since Steve had told them where they were seeking sanctuary. T'Challa had been pretty pro-Accords the last time Scott saw him, so why exactly was he willing to hide a few international fugitives in his spare bedroom? 

It takes him two hours to find someone who is willing to point him in the right direction of the king, and another hour for him to actually find what he'd called T'Challa's assistant, who probably has some official title of her own. 

“I'd like to see His Highness, or is it Grace? Majesty? King. I'd like to see the king, please.” He's trying desperately not to fidget. The outer office he's standing in reminds him of a cross between a museum and a sci-fi movie set. He doesn't want to touch anything and wants to touch everything all at the same time. It's a rather common problem for him. 

Her lips don't even twitch but there is amusement in her eyes. “His Majesty is occupied at present, but,” her eyes move to the large screen that dominates most of the left hand side of her desk, “Yes, there is an opening at three o'clock this afternoon.” 

“That's great.” He blinks at her for a second before, “Oh, I guess, I'll come back, then.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and is gratified to see a slight twitch of a smile in response. “Thank you.”

“You are very welcome.” She turns back to her screen and Scott takes that as the dismissal it is. He casts one last look at the overly large wooden doors that lead to either an office or a throne room, Scott's not sure which he'd prefer, before retracing his steps until he finds the balcony garden he passed earlier. He has a few hours to kill and even with the humidity he'd rather spend them outside in the fresh air.

He's back in front of the imposing wooden doors with ten minutes to spare. Fully intending to have to occupy himself for the ten minutes he's surprised when the assistant ushers him forward.

“His Majesty is ready for you.”

It's not a throne room.

The doors snick shut behind him and Scott takes a second to look around the large, airy room. It's a mix of metal and dark woods and there is a large, imposing desk that dominates the room. A desk empty of any personal effects. No pictures or knick knacks, not even a little Wakanda flag. 

It's also empty of a king.

“Mr. Lang,” Scott jumps a little and then turns to find the king rising from a chair that's part of a matched set in a little seating area set off to the side.

“Just Scott is fine, really.” He briefly wonders if he should bow or something but decides just to shake the hand T'Challa offers him. “Thank you for making time to see me. I mean, I'm sure you're busy running a country and everything.”

“It is more time consuming than one would think,” He motions for Scott to sit in the other chair before taking a seat himself. “But it ran before I became king and it will run long after I am gone. How can I help you?”

Scott tucks his hands between his knees and tries not to fidget. “I was just, I was wondering something, and I figured the best way to get a straight answer is just to ask.” T'Challa makes a 'go on' motion with his hand and leans back in his chair. Scott blinks a little, the man knows how to make you seem like the center of his attention, before continuing. “You were pro-accords, before...what changed your mind?”

The smallest crease appears between T'Challa's brows and he tilts his head slightly, “What makes you think I have changed my mind? I signed the accords.”

“But...” Scott starts but doesn't really know where to go from there. The obvious, but you're harboring fugitives who have violated the accords, feels a bit too much like pushing his luck.

T'Challa saves him from his floundering. “Have you read the accords?”

“Um, not in depth or anything.” Scott feels like it's a confession of sorts but T'Challa just nods and gets up from his chair and crosses the room to the desk. He comes back and hands Scott the inch think stack of paper. He feels weird looking up to T'Challa so he finds his feet and tucks the book up against his chest. “Probably be a good idea to actually read the whole thing.”

T'Challa gives him a searching look before nodding. “My father felt very strongly about these laws. He believed that power should not go unchecked or unquestioned. There will always be power imbalances, from the individual to the global scale, that is simply the reality of life. But we must always strive for better.” 

Scott idly wonders if the man had to take lessons or if that presence just comes naturally to him. “Right, well I'll just go, uh, catch up on my reading.” He steps towards the door. “Thank you, again.” He sort of bobs a bow and catches T'Challa's amused look on the way up.

“When you get 'caught up', I would be happy to hear your opinion.” 

“Guess I'd better go form some then.”

XXX

 

He reads the whole thing through once, tucked up in a hidden corner of their wing where a pair of overstuffed chairs are wedged together against a wall facing some floor to ceiling windows overlooking the deep green of the jungle. 

It takes him three hours.

As soon as he's finished he goes on the hunt for a pen and some post-it notes and then heads back to his little corner. Barton finds him about an hour and several post-it notes later, and pushes a bowl of something warm and wonderful smelling at him, but leaves as soon as he's sure Scott is actually eating. 

It's nearly 7 am by the time Scott is finished, the accords bristling with post-it notes and a dawning realization making a sick twisted knot take up residence in his stomach. He's exhausted and his head is pounding but he's too wired to head to bed. He heads to the kitchen instead where he is unsurprised to find the rest of his team. 

Wilson has a pan of something that smells wonderful on the stove while Rogers-call-me-Steve is eating cereal out of a ridiculously large bowl at the counter. Wanda has her head in the fridge and Barton is half curled around a mug at the table. 

They all look his way when he walks in. He's too far on the other side of exhausted for it to intimidate him like before.

“So, turns out the accords are the Wizard of Oz.” 

He gets four, blank looks.

It's Barton's tired drawl that breaks the silence. “The book, the movie, or the play?”

“No, not the work, the wizard. You know? The all great powerful Wizard?”

Steve sets the bowl down on the counter. “The accords are the wizard?” He looks for help from Wilson but the man just shrugs.

“Don't look at me, man, I don't speak crazy this early in the morning.”

“But the wizard was just a man behind a curtain, right? He wasn't a wizard at all.” Wanda closes the fridge and leans against it.

Scott points at her, “Exactly.” 

There are a few beats of silence before, “Anybody else still really confused?” Wilson asks, looking around at the show of hands.

Scott waves the heavily post-it'd document around a bit. “This is the wizard! It's pretending to be all powerful, but really it's just a man behind the curtain hoping nobody will call his bluff.”

“But we did call it's bluff...unless you're forgetting your time as a guest on the raft.” Steve reminds him.

“No, but see, that had nothing to do with the accords.” He waves them again in emphasis. “Nowhere in here does it say they can lock you up and throw away the key. Do you really think the U.S. would be okay with that? Hell, we don't even have extradition treaties with all the countries that have signed, you think they'd be willing to hand over say, Captain America, to anyone not U.S.?” 

He knows his voice is getting a little frazzled but he's on a roll now, “Not to mention the fact that the Constitution supersedes everything else, treaties included, which means our right to a trial for one thing.”

“Not that we didn't break a whole lot of international laws,” Barton points out mildly. 

Scott is momentarily sidetracked, “Parole violations,” he mutters. 

“They locked us up, restrained us.” Wanda's face makes Scott flinch. Out of all of them, she had it worse on the Raft. Wilson, Barton and he were all in relatively comfortable cells, safer than gen pop without the mindfuck of solitary. Sure the meals were mostly unappetizing, nutritionally balanced mush, but they didn't have a collar strapped around their necks leaving them with a constant migraine. 

“Yeah, I'm not denying things went royally FUBAR, I'm just saying this thing? Not the big bad wizard we thought it was.”

“I'm still not getting the wizard reference.” Wilson admits.

“Glad I'm not the only one,” Steve mutters. 

Scott huffs. “They called him all powerful, and because the people believed it, he was. They tell the people of the world, the 117 countries that have signed this thing, that it'll keep us on a leash, and so they believe it. But it's just a man standing behind a curtain.”

“It stopped us.” Wilson reminds him.

Scott looks around, “Do we looked stopped to you? And, no offense to us, but I have a feeling they mainly drafted this thing with Stark in mind. They knew he'd play the game, that they would get their “wizard” to calm the masses after the complete fuckup of the last few years.”

“They were going to drop Bucky in a hole.” Steve's words are quiet but they cut through Scott's manic energy. 

“Dude,” Scott feels a mix of exasperation and heartbreak, his hero worship fighting with his need to bang his head against the wall. “Bucky Barnes was a war hero, a United States veteran. And he's got a hell of a story that the masses would get behind in a heartbeat. Especially if they thought his rights were being violated.”

He runs his hand over his face and sighs, “I'm not saying this whole thing isn't royally fucked sideways, I'm just saying, as someone who's wondering when he's going to get to see his daughter again, that this is not the wizard I thought I was fighting.”

XXX

_“Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark! Any comments for us on the fact that your former teammates have escaped from custody?”_

_“Stark! Are the rumors true that you were involved in Secretary Ross' resignation?”_

_“Do you have any comment on the rumors that you pulled Stark Industries legal personal to represent the now escaped former Avengers?”_

_“Are you and Hope Van Dyne romantically involved?”_

_“Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark! Any comments for us at all?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter...but it's an update, yeah! Thank you to everyone who has bookmarked or kudos'd or read, y'all are awesome!


	3. Princess

**Chapter 3 - Princess**

 

**_Tony always wondered why they called it an arm's race when he could never see a finish line._ **

 

“It's done.”

“That really depends on your definition of 'done'.”

Tony rolls his eyes at his AI but doesn't stop rolling the injector in his hands. There is something about the weight, the solid presence in his hand that makes something still in his mind. So many hours, so many dead ends and this could be it. “FRI, what time is it?”

“It's 10:17 pm, boss. Might be a good idea to get some sleep.” There's a hopeful lit to FRIDAY's voice.

“Depends on your definition of 'good'.” he snarks back. “Besides, I slept last night.”

“I've come to understand it's daily occurrence in most healthy and balanced adult lives. Also that the recommended hours fall somewhere between seven and nine. Not three.” 

“Healthy? Balanced?” he snorts and brings the injector up to eye level, watching the metallic liquid shine through the glass. “ _Adult?_ ”

“I don't know what I was thinking.” There is a pause and then, “You missed dinner as well. I know the kids were disappointed.” 

“The kids are probably in a pizza coma drooling on my couch.” He slides the injector into the pocket of his sweatshirt and casts an eye about for something else to occupy himself. There is the latest prototype for the new comm system he's been working on to his left, abandoned hours ago when FRI announced the numbers had been run 'front, back and sideways and this batch is actually looking stable' and he picks it up trying to lose himself in the delicate parts.

The injector is a heavy weight at his side, but he can't bear to part with it just yet.  
“So what's next week look like?”

“Well, Boss, tomorrow...”

Tony isn't really listening, he just can't stand the silence. He used to cover it with loud music but he can't quite shake the feeling that he might miss something with his hearing basically cut off. He absorbs himself in his work.

Until FRIDAY interrupts herself with, “Boss you have a visitor headed your way.”

Tony blinks hard and looks around. When he bought the house one of the big features it boasted was that it had been built into a hill, creating a pseudo basement that on one side was under the main house accessed by elevator and on the other side opened up onto the patio and pool. The area had been divided and had been advertised as an indoor garage and an entertainment room. The first thing Tony did when he moved it was rip out the dividing wall, replace the accordion doors leading to the outside with reinforced smart glass and added another wall of glass by the elevator.

Where a girl is currently standing, carrying a plate and a bottle of coke and a determined expression.

Tony's head swivels at the whir of servos. “Dummy, you know the rules when small humans are in the workshop.” The bot backs quickly past the bright orange line that bisects the workshop floor, his arm still stretched out, camera fixed on Lila. 

Lila, for her part, has noticed Dummy and lost a bit of the determined glare and is smiling at the bot. That lasts until Tony releases the door locks and then Lila is marching into the workshop, glare firmly back in place.

Pepper would be proud.

Tony tries very hard to steer away from thoughts of Pepper and by the time Lila's short stride has made it all the way to the bench he's working at, he's all smiles. “And what are you still doing awake?”

She thrusts the plate at him and he notices two slices of pepperoni, pineapple and black olive pizza. It was Cooper's night to choose toppings apparently. “You missed dinner,” she accuses.

“Um, I got really busy.” He's not sure why guilt trips from Lila are so effective but the girl should bottle that, she'd make a fortune.

“You have to feed your brain.” It's so matter of fact that Tony finds himself taking the plate from her on reflex. When she continues to glare he picks up a piece of pizza and shoves it in his mouth.

She nods and once she's sure he's actually eating she smiles and waves at Dummy, who is practically bouncing in place waiting for her to acknowledge him.

“Are you being helpful today, Dummy?” she asks.

Tony snorts and Dummy swivels around, the very picture of indignation. “Oh, don't even try it, brat.”

“He hasn't set anything on fire today,” muses FRIDAY. 

Lila grins up at the ceiling. “Well that's always good.” She sets the bottle on the bench and then crosses her arms and gives him a narrow eyed look. “So what was so important you forgot about pizza?”

He buys time twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a drink. Luckily for him, FRIDAY bails him out.

“Boss, why don't you show her Project Guardian?”

Tony sets the bottle on the bench with a clack. “Excellent idea! Pull it up for us, would ya?”

He pushes the specs away and brings the four prototypes forward, patting himself on the back a bit when Lila immediately focuses on the one he designed with her in mind.

“They're so pretty. What do they do?”  
“Do? What makes you think they do anything? Can't they just be pretty?”

There's that narrowed eye look again. “If you don't want to tell me, that's fine.” There's a few beats of silence before a grin spreads over her face, “I'll just ask FRIDAY.”

“FRI won't tell tales out of school.” He shoves another slice of pizza in his mouth to hide the grin.

“For Lila? I might.”

He fakes indignation while Lila laughs. “I see how it is, no respect honestly. Well fine, since you've seem to have conned my AI into giving you all the secrets anyway...” He grabs the projection that first caught Lila's attention. “Arm.”

“Huh?”

He gestures impatiently until she holds her arm out. With a fluid motion he flicks the projection so that's it's now wrapped around her wrist. The light wavers for a bit before steadying. The gold and platinum links look delicate against her thin wrist and the small pink stones don't overpower the piece. 

“You were right FRI, the quarter carats would've been too big.” He mutters while Lila waves her arm around, the bracelet flickering a bit as she moves. 

“So, what does it do?” 

Tony rolls his eyes a bit but answers, “It connects you to FRIDAY, anywhere in the world...well anywhere my satellites reach, so yeah, anywhere in the world.” 

She blinks at him for a second and then, “That's it?”

He huffs, “'That's it?' she asks, jeeze kid. What do you want it to do?”

Her grin clicks up into something almost sly and she raises her hand in a very familiar pose, “Repulsor?”

“Ha! No, no not happening, no way.” 

She shrugs at him, “Had to try.” 

He snorts, “Your mother would filet me.” He drags the other three designs forward, pulling the one thats the least ornate, a simply gunmetal grey link design, to the front. “Do you think Cooper will like this one?”

“Yeah.” But her eyes are fixed on the projection around her wrist. “Hey, Uncle Tony, can I ask you a question?”

Tony swallows and tries really hard to keep his voice level. “Sure pumpkin, what' s up?” Nobody has ever called him uncle before.

Her nose scrunches up and she gives him a look. “Pumpkin?”  
“You don't like pumpkin?”

“I'm not orange...and I hate pumpkin pie. Blech.”

Her face is so exaggerated he can't help but laugh, forcing down the uneasy feelings from before. “Okay, okay, how about buttercup?”

She nods. “Better.” Her face goes serious again. “Are you going to arrest Daddy?”

All the air seems to go out of the room and Tony has to grip the workbench hard with one hand, the other pressed hard against his fake sternum. “What do you mean?”

She's playing with the light on her wrist and it helps that shes not looking at him. “Ms. Jessica said Daddy did something bad, but we're going to try and help fix it. That's why we're going to talk to the TV people.”

“Uh huh.” Ms. Jessica would be Jessica Stewart, the best PR wrangler Stark Industries has on retainer. When Laura decided to go public, knowing that showing the world Clint had a family would be helpful to his case, and also knowing the story was going to break, she might as well do it on her terms, Tony called Jessica. Once he had filled her in, she told him she was charging him double the Stark Special. 

He told her he'd give her triple, as long as she kept this from being the true clusterfuck it was destined to be.

“So, are you? Going to arrest him?”

“It's...” his mind casts around for an adequate response. “It's more complicated than that.” 

She sighs, “If you arrest him, he'd be back here, right? I mean, he'd be in jail or whatever...but I'd get to see him, right?” She looks up at him then and it nearly rips his heart right out of his chest.

“Princess, I promise, I'm going to do everything I can to bring him back home.”

She smiles at him then, and if it's a bit watery they both pretend not to notice. “That one I like.” When he blinks at her in confusion she clarifies, “Princess, better than buttercup.”

“Princess it is then.” 

“Lila, hon, your mom is looking for you.”

She blinks up at the ceiling. “Oh, whoops. I better go. Thanks, FRI.”

She looks back down at him and then holds her arm up. “Can we make the stones purple?”

“Any color you want, Princess.”

The smile that lights up her face nearly guts him, but then she's rushing forward and wrapping her arms around his waist and his mind is nothing but static. “Goodnight, Uncle Tony.”

“Goodnight, Lila.” He manages as she lets go and rushes towards the door.

He watches as she gets on the elevator and waits untill the doors close before he moves. “Well, FRI, you heard the girl. Purple stones.”

“You got it, boss.”

XXX

{you} Hey, so my mom baked me a cake  
8:19pm

{the mechanic}Good for you?  
8:21pm

{you}Aren't you going to ask /why/ my mom baked me a cake?  
8:25pm

{the mechanic}I don't think I want to…  
8:26pm

{the mechanic}ugh, fine...why is your mom baking you a cake a bad thing?  
8:30pm

{you} She wanted to congratulate me  
8:32pm

{the mechanic}ok  
8:33pm

{you} seriously?  
8:45pm

{the mechanic}Lord save me from teenage drama...fine, why was your mother congratulating you?  
8:47pm

{you} funny you should ask...seems I've been accepted into the Stark Industries Youth of Our Future Summer Program  
8:48pm

{the mechanic}CONGRATULATIONS  
8:49pm

{you} which is surprising considering I HADN'T EVEN APPLIED  
8:50pm

{the mechanic} Do you not want the spot? Cause really I'm sensing a lack of interest here  
8:52pm

{you} Ha, you're hilarious, I've already confirmed the tickets and my bags are packed  
8:54pm

{the mechanic}Then I am failing to see why you are whinging at me  
8:56pm

{you} Dude...a head's up, that's all I'm asking. Cause I had to pretend I just didn't tell mom I'd applied because I didn't think I'd get it and I got a twenty minute self esteem lecture  
8:57pm

{the mechanic}Would you believe I forgot?  
8:59pm

{you}yes, yes I can  
9:00pm

{you} thanks  
9:05pm

{the mechanic} you're welcome, kid  
9:07pm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love all y'all! Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the continuation of my _feelings_ about CACW. If you haven't read the first three fics, well you don't have to, but you'll get confused next chapter :) 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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